The pub really is around the corner from the hotel, so we walk there. The evening air is crisp—not too hot, not too cold—and makes for great walking weather. I love the Portland area. The nightlife and the people are incredible. I don’t come out here nearly as much as I’d like. Aida and I used to visit here on the weekends when we were first married. It brings back a lot of memories.

The restaurant is packed by the time we walk through the doors. Typical for a Friday night. We’re somehow able to get a seat in the bar area within a few minutes, the hostess setting down large, laminated menus and paper cup holders in front of each of us.

“Your server tonight will be Lindsey. She will be with you shortly. Can I get you two started with something to drink?”

Peering at Cash, I hold out my hand, indicating he can order first.

“Can I get whatever you have on tap for IPA, please?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. And for you?”

“Oh hell, I’ll have the same. Thank you.” I smile at her, bringing my attention to Cash, who’s already watching me.

He flashes me a smirk. “You don’t strike me as an IPA guy, teach.”

Laughter bubbles out of me. “Let me get this straight… not only do I not seem cool enough to listen to the music I do, but now, I also don’t seem cool enough to be a beer drinker? You think so highly of me, Cash.”

“Whoa, hey now! When did I say anything about being cool enough? Am I wrong about the beer?” He lifts a knowing brow at me, his big brown eyes teasing me.

“That’s really beside the point.”

“Ah-HA! I’m right, aren’t I? Come on, let’s hear it.” Turning his head and laughing, he cups the back of his ear.

“Alright, fine. I don’t normally drink beer. I’m more of a whiskey guy.”

Clapping his hands, he gloats. “I knew it!”

“You’re turning out to be a pain in my ass,” I drawl, a smile spread across my face. “Remind me never to invite you to anything again.”

“Mmhmm, sure.”

A dainty brunette stops at our table, setting our beers down. “Hi, guys. I’m Lindsey and I’ll be your server for the evening. Do we know what we’re having to eat yet?”

“Uh, shit. We haven’t even looked at the menus. Do you just want to split a pizza? Pepperoni?”

“Yup, that works for me,” Cash responds. “Also, two shots of whiskey, please. What kind do you prefer, teach?”

“Oh, we don’t have to do that.” Bad idea.